


The cost of crossing

by Ariana (Ariana_El)



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Helcaraxë
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-30 09:31:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6418144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ariana_El/pseuds/Ariana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Helcaraxe spares no one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The cost of crossing

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, this is translation of my story written originally in Polish.

**The cost of crossing**

 

„Elenwe!”

Astonished, Fingon didn’t have time to recover after two silhouettes disappeared under water, when Turgon dropped his fur and jumped after his daughter and wife.

The ice under his feet moved dangerously, the elves around him spread wider in panic, just to keep some distance from one another; it was easier to keep balance alone on the treacherous surface and one victim didn’t take many others with them.

The dark, ominous depths waved and for one terrible second Fingon couldn’t move. He reacted only  after a moment, quickly, instinctively like an older brother, when he heard his sister’s voice among others.

“Irisse, stop!” He caught her shoulder before she had a chance to follow Turgon in that horrible madness. “Stay!” He pushed her towards Lalwende. „Be careful!” He grabbed a rope from his sleigh and went to the gap, where he saw glimpses of Turgon’s silhouette in the choppy water.

At the other side of the trap Arakano left the sleigh he was pulling and reached water in few long steps, ignoring to the fact that the violated ice could crack wider, taking him or their precious supplies. Turgon’s head appeared on the water surface once more, and beside him was another one, smaller, fair-haired.

“Catch the rope, Turko! Catch the rope!” With new wave of hope, Fingon threw him heavy coil of rope, stiff from frost. The rope tensed and he started pulling; every meter in the icy water was almost insurmountable, each minute brought closer inevitable death.

“Give me! Give me her!” Arakano balanced dangerously at the edge of the ice, leaning over to his elder brother.

Turgon struggled, his daughter’s fur dragged them down, but he managed to push the girl towards the edge. Arakano grabbed her hand and pulled her lightly from the water, so Idril found herself up with a shriek. At the same moment Fingon fell back, as the tension of the rope disappeared.

“Turukano!!!”

Arakano quickly stepped back with Idril shivering in his arms.

“Itaril, Itaril.” Lalwende slipped between the sleighs and took the girl from her nephew. Together with Aredhel they started undressing her from her wet, stiffening clothes. They talked to her softly, trying to warm her, but Fingon didn’t pay attention. Turgon was more important, still in the water, struggling between the floe. Fingon retrieved the rope and glanced at the pieces of ice. If only they were stones, firmly placed in a creek... But no, they couldn’t serve as something Fingon could jump on to get to his brother.

“Turukano, come back! Catch the rope, back!” he shouted, throwing the rope again where Turgon went to catch breath before disappearing again.

“Secure me!” demanded Arakano, grabbing the wet rope and tying it hastily around himself. “He won’t come on his own,” he said quickly to his brother and father, who finally joined his family.

“Help me, Atto.” Fingon moved a bit and gave Fingolfin the end of the rope, so they would be able to pull his brothers together.

Arakano jumped to the water. Unlike Turgon, he still had his full strength and quickly got to the place where Turgon struggled to emerge from water for another breath. He grabbed him, still kicking and shouting something hysterically. As soon as Arakano got him, Fingolfin and his eldest son started pulling them. Arakano tried to help, but Turgon was still fighting him, so he had to leave it to his family.

They both got to the edge, but the ice there was thin and broke when Arakano leaned his brother against it, so Turgon sank under water. Glorfindel joined Fingolfin, so Fingon left them and ran to his brothers. The gap stared threateningly at him, as if inviting him to fall and maybe share Elenwe’s fate along with his brothers. Fingon tried to reach them from the side and the ice cracked, but he managed to jump away in time. He had to get to them, he saw Turgon was already weak, and ceased to struggle against Arakano.

Not much further the edge of ice stood well above the water, meaning the ice was thick there. Fingon ran there and Fingolfin with Glorfindel circled after him, dragging the elves in the water.

“Together, Finno!” Aredhel appeared next to him and they both grabbed half-frozen Turgon. The high edge wasn’t easy to go through, but as soon as they succeeded, Fingon left his sister dragging Turgon away, and he reached for Arakano. Helping his youngest brother, who was struggling to stay upright, Fingon led him away from the gap, while Fingolfin and Glorfindel half dragged, half carried Turgon to the sleighs, to some safer ice.

“Undress! Now!” Commanded the eldest of the brothers, when Arakano stopped and stared numbly at Turgon he had saved. “Arko, do you hear me?” Fingon grabbed his jacket, already freezing and changing into an ice shell.

Arakano recovered and helped him with his shaking hands. Next to them the scuffle ceased, as Turgon stopped struggling, wet and ghastly white in the gloom of the stars. Fingolfin scrubbed and rubbed him,  covered in his own fur, until Aredhel came with some dry clothes.

Lalwende sat at the side of the sleigh, her fur unbuttoned, covered with a few blankets. Inside that cocoon she kept Idril, curled on her knees, cuddling her and speaking softly. Not even a top of the girl’s head was visible from behind the clothes, but Fingon figured from his aunt’s bearing that the little one was safe.

But there still was a problem, and a big one. As soon as Turgon caught his breath, he started struggling again in his father’s embrace. Movement itself was good, as it restored circulation in half-frozen limbs, but his brother’s desperate cries, demanding to be set free, broke Fingon’s heart. Turgon freed himself finally from Fingolfin’s embrace, but his numb legs failed him and he would have fallen, had his brother not caught him in time.

“Stay, Turko!” Commanded Fingon firmly and grabbed his shoulders. In any other situation, he wouldn’t be able to hold him back, as both his brothers were higher and stronger than him, but now the cold took Turgon’s strength, even if his desperate determination dragged him back to the gap.

“It’s too late, Turukano,” said Fingolfin firmly. “That water will kill you, don’t fight with us!”

“Let me go! Elenwe, Elenwe...”

“You will not help Elenwe, but Itaril still needs you!”

Fingon was still holding his brother. Fingolfin saw the opportunity and pressed a canteen against his lips, forcing him to swallow a few sips of warming liquor. Still shocked, Turgon chocked and his wife’s name, repeated over and over again, changed into helpless sobbing. The struggling ceased.

“I’m sorry, little brother,” murmured Fingon to his brother’s ear, because, despite height difference, Turgon leaned against him heavily and his wet, frozen hair scratched his cheek. Fingon started rubbing his shoulders, as soon as he was sure he wouldn’t struggle again. Turgon just stood and wept helplessly and Fingon couldn’t do anything but try to return some colour to his blue lips, a bit of warmth to his hands.

Another cry joined Turgon’s sobbing; high voice, a simple, frightened cry of a child. Fingon’s younger brother frowned and recovered a bit, disbelief shining in his grey eyes. He left the embrace and went towards his aunt. His numb legs struggled to carry him, so Fingon supported him and dragged him to his daughter. Idril cried in Lalwende’s arms, glancing through the layers of blankets. That made Turgon calm down and he drank more liquor without protests.

“We need to go.” Fingolfin exchanged grim glances with his eldest son. He too watched Turgon closely, ready to react if he tried to do something insensible. But it seemed Turgon gave up that suicidal search, and his brother’s arm, still holding him upright, reminded him that he did not have enough strength to continue rescue mission; Elenwe was already in Mandos’ Halls, far away from here.

“Did you hear, Turko?” Fingon pushed his brother lightly and pulled his hood. “You’re coming with me.”

Turgon nodded numbly, but he glanced at his daughter. Before he had a chance to do anything, Fingolfin leaned over his sister and took his granddaughter. Idril cuddled to him, disappearing completely in her grandfather’s big fur. Arakano went back to his sleigh, Lalwende and Aredhel took the other one, leaving Fingon to take care of his brother.

“Come on. Let’s go.”

And Turgon went silently, like all of them, further into the endless night on that snow dessert. The gap was left behind, just like many others before. Yet again a sacrifice on that cold road to foreign lands.

 

 


End file.
